


Attack on Orgrimmar

by hoffnungin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoffnungin/pseuds/hoffnungin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World of Warcraft SNK AU. Set in the present time of Warcraft, Garrosh Hellscream has waged war against the whole of Azeroth and the siege of Orgrimmar has begun. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and the rest of their friends, led by Commander Erwin and the leaders of the Alliance and Horde, must band together to defend their home if they wish to save it, or dare to face the tyranny of the war god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack on Orgrimmar

**Author's Note:**

> First serious SNK fanfiction I'm about to do. I know many in the SNK fandom may not know too much about World of Warcraft, and a lot of the characters within the story will be from that universe, so I will do my best to explain everything so people understand at least somewhat. I hope to get updates in as fast as I can, but please be patient with me. And for those who are aware of the lore in Warcraft, I know there are no human Shaman or Worgen Monks. I took some artistic license with those. Happy reading!

We were there when the ravenous disease began to spread throughout our beloved city, taking hundreds –  _thousands_  of people and turning them into the feral Worgen - huge humanoid werewolves set on destroying everything in their path. Dark messy fur, huge baring teeth, hungry glaring golden eyes, and a never-ending thirst for human flesh and blood. We watched as our families and friends were taken from us in bloodshed, the soldiers that defended the once great city of Gilneas from being eaten whole by the savage beasts. We saw bodies laying in the streets, mangled by the wolves, claw marks searing their skin and coating the stone ground with Gilnean blood. We ran as fast as we could, as fast as our short legs would take us, from the threat that seemed to never end.

I was too slow.

I suffered a wound on my upper arm, where one of the feral Worgen had reached me and clamped its massive jaws around my flesh before it was stabbed in the throat by an older, greying soldier, clad in the bland colours of Gilneas. I remember hearing the thunderous thud pounding in my ears as it fell, dead, to the ground, its blood soaking the underside of my worn out shoes. I heard screaming coming from my own small mouth, a few teeth missing, and I remember seeing red, blood rushing from the wound as the soldier carried me to safety, unknowing of what was to come of it. I heard orders being barked to some of the younger men, but it grew faint as I began to fall unconscious.

The wound hadn’t changed me then. I was a young boy of only ten years, so the effects hadn’t been noticed until I started to grow. I grew angrier as time went on, remembering how the soldiers hadn’t been able to save my family, my home being invaded by Worgen and my parents eaten alive before my very eyes by the monsters. I used to scream in and out of my sleep, and I would scream at the soldiers and my friends and anyone who dared to oppose me. I was hit, and beat, and told I was a freak for the giant scar tattooed into my upper arm, a reminder of the events that would plague me forever.

I was always told I was lucky to have survived. They told Armin and Mikasa and all the children who’d been saved the same exact thing, over and over again until it had been engraved into our minds. To my knowledge, none of the other kids had been bitten, and the Mages and Priests and all who worked still hadn’t discovered a cure for the disease that had driven us out of our homes. We slept in stables and old abandoned houses far into the country side, close to where the vicious Horde’s Forsaken had stationed themselves. The Forsaken were zombies, dead soldiers that had been raised up to fight another day for their freedom. I remember their white, decaying skin, the visible bones that sat underneath rotting flesh and their skull faces that had haunted my dreams for years. They’d overrun Gilneas after the disease had taken hold, but it was believed that the Alliance had come to our aid when no one else had, and saved us from losing the city forever. I was grateful for that, but it would be a while before we could return home.

I remember stories of the great heroes of the Alliance - the noble races of Azeroth that banded together to keep peace within the continents, humans and dwarves and night elves and gnomes and the Draenei and eventually, the people of Gilneas. I remember my mother telling me about all the different races of the world - dwarves, bearded, short and stocky men who carried giant axes and drank so much their livers should have exploded. Night elves, a tall race where they had colourful skin and hair, and they devoted their lives to keeping nature intact. Gnomes, tiny geniuses who have created some of the most astounding devices in the world. Draenei, an alien race of blue, horned humanoids that was taken in by the Alliance after their home crashed into Azeroth.

Then there had been the Horde, the beastly, gruesome races of Azeroth tied together by loose ends. Orcs were mean and green, with large tusks as big as my thumb and nine inch thick skin that could take anything you threw at them and loved the art of war. Tauren were more peaceful, similar to night elves in their love of balance and nature, they were huge humanoid bulls that stood much taller than any night elf. Trolls were even taller, when they stood up straight, as my mother used to tell me they had the worst hunch of all. They came in tribes and wore face paint over their blue skin and had huge tusks that could rip your heart out if they tried. Forsaken, and then blood elves, high elves who became addicted to arcane magic, they were elegant and fearless and powerful, despite their appearance next to the other races. And there were goblins, tiny green people with giant ears and a mouth that could run on for days and days.

Yes we were in the middle of a war, and us Gilneans were smacked right into the middle of it once the 'curse', as some began to call it, started to spread throughout the city. Horde forces began to swarm into our land, and Alliance soldiers held them back with everything they could.

At the age of twelve I suffered my first transformation into the creature I so despised. I remember my bones stretching and breaking as I grew in size, the pain causing a blood-curdling scream to rip from my elongated jaws. Everything hurt and everything was red, and as soon as the pain came it was over. I remember snarling and claws and cold metal shackles around my wrists and neck, too tight to be comfortable. I remember a cold stone floor and bars surrounding me, and total darkness. They kept me away from my friends, told me I was dangerous and should be killed on the spot, but something, or someone, kept me from death. 

It wasn’t long after that that they discovered a cure – not something to take the disease away for good but to allow the Gilnean mind to control the werewolf that harboured inside their bodies. Before I knew it I could see clearly again, colors and Armin and Mikasa. I was no longer confined in a small, cramped cage, with shackles keeping me from the outside world. I wasn't some werewolf creature locked in a cage anymore - I was myself, Eren Jaeger, just a naive boy who lost everything in the invasion except his life and his friends. I was free, but I was still a danger. People still feared me, even if they knew who I was. I would insist, “I’m still Eren,” but they still gave me funny looks and kept their loved ones away from me. I remember crying in my hiding place, deep in the woods of Gilneas and I remember my friends finding me and comforting me, telling me that they loved me and that I wasn’t a monster. No, I wasn’t a monster – not to them at least.

But that was years ago, a faint memory to some but as clear as the day’s sky to those who witnessed the events first hand. It had been ten years since the fall of Gilneas, since the people of Gilneas joined the forces of the Alliance and settled in the grand cities of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. Those who had been affected by the Worgen disease stayed put in Darnassus, where Tyrande Whisperwind, their leader, had given them shelter and a place where they would be excepted into Alliance arms within the home of the night elves. Most other Gilneans who hadn’t been affected traveled to the Eastern Kingdoms and made their home in Stormwind, home of the King of the Alliance, and leader of the humans, Varian Wyrnn.

I stayed behind in Darnassus, as did Armin and Mikasa, where we were given a home, food, and training to become soldiers of the Alliance. We wanted to fight back against the forces that had driven us out of our beloved city, and so the night elves worked patiently with us and many other recruits who wished to fight as well.

I was now a Warrior, specialized in dual wielding and fast, aggressive attacks. Warriors wore huge amounts of heavy, metal armor and it took some getting used to at first but I managed with what I had. Mikasa became a Warrior along side me, but she preferred to carry a single, larger weapon. She seemed to have a much more easier time learning how to swing a sword properly than I did. Armin wanted no part in physical fights, and settled into Priesthood, learning the ways of the Light and discipline alongside Draenei and night elves alike. I remember finding him within the confines of the small elven libraries, his button nose dug deeply into a large spell book and a look on his face like he'd never seen anything like this before. And none of us had - not really.

During our training, we met others like us, some who had been through the same horrific moments in Gilneas. Jean Kirschtein from Stormwind was a Warrior like me, which resulted in butted heads and a rivalry unmatched by any within our squad. Marco Bodt was a Shaman, specializing in the restorative powers of the water elements. He was attached to Jean’s side as if they’d been born at the hip, and it was hard to tell whether or not they were dating. Sasha Braus, a human from Goldshire, was a hunter, specialized in the mastery of animals. Her boar, Glug, followed her around everywhere she went, and I’m almost positive they even shared meals and slept in the same cot. Connie Springer was a warlock, a student of demon magic, from Stormwind, his small demon imp companion hopping alongside him to aid him in causing trouble. Christa Renz was a priest like Armin, but dealt more with the holy aspect of the class, and her partner Ymir, another Worgen from Gilneas, was a Druid, one who was in tune with all aspect of nature and could shift into different animal forms at will, preferring her feline form. 

Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover and Annie Leonhart were all Worgen, all coming from the same invasion my friends and I had escaped long ago. Reiner had picked up a shield his first day, so it was obvious that he would be a protector of sorts. Bertholdt was a Druid like Ymir, though felt more compelled to his bear form than anything else. Annie was special – she was a Monk, a physical fighter that preferred to use fists in place of axes and swords, something unheard of to me until the night elves introduced me to Aysa Cloudsinger, a female Pandaren who had traveled to Darnassus to meet the Worgen who wished to train in the way of the Monk. She was the technical leader of the Pandaren in Alliance terms, having been the first to join with blue and yellow on her back. The Pandaren were a neutral race, having the choice of being affiliated with either the Horde or the Alliance. They were large, humanoid bears who spoke in strange accents and ate tons and tons of food.

Since that fateful day 10 years ago, we’d all grown to become the men and women our parents would be proud to see on the front lines of war. We had aided our Alliance in many battles and watched as old friends were killed on the field, fighting orcs or dragons or demons alike. We’d fought off the forces of the Horde army, orcs and tauren and trolls who wished to see our bodies piled high for their leader, Garrosh Hellscream, to come out victorious, and for the regal coats of blue and yellow to be stained with the blood of allies. We’d fought off the Black Dragonflight and Deathwing the Destroyer, who wished to see our world burn in the flames of his hatred and agony. We were seasoned and prepared and almost nothing could stand in our way.

But as soon as one threat was eliminated, another appeared almost instantly. 

Many of us had travelled to Pandaria, home of the Pandaren, within the years of our service, fighting alongside Pandaren who wished to fight for the Alliance against the Horde, who wanted to paint the continent red with their flags and our blood. I was one of them, having travelled many miles to arrive at the land which had been hidden away in the mists for far too long. I had seen much more than I wished to, but every challenge strengthened my resolve more and more each passing day. With my friends at my side, nothing seemed impossible, but that was when things began to change.

There was a rumble, like an earthquake but much, much louder, almost like a voice – something screaming and roaring as it was unleashed from its former prison. I remember seeing the land of the glorious Vale of Eternal Blossoms, once golden and flourishing, become scarred with the energy of the Sha, beings of darkness that formed from negative emotions within Pandaria. The scar was dark and black and full of death, Sha beings forming from the scar and patrolling the fountain in front of the Mogu’Shan Vaults that had been corrupted by the heart of Y’Shaarj. We all knew it had been Garrosh Hellscream that had thrown the heart into the fountain, destroying the land the Pandaren held so dear to them forever.

The Horde Army had made Orgrimmar, their home city, a war zone – troops patrolled the streets armed with giant spiked axes and ready to fight at any moments notice. Their dark shamans twisted and tormented the elements all throughout the area, bending them to do their bidding no matter what it was. After Garrosh’s terrifying act, many of the Horde left the city to rebel against his rule, causing civil war to break out between those who swore loyalty to Garrosh and those who wished to end his tyranny. Horde spilt Horde blood, and the Alliance soon found themselves in the middle of another war, though this time they had unexpected allies on their side of the fight. For the first time in a long time in history, Horde was fighting alongside the Alliance to defeat Horde forces that threatened to destroy the world they knew and loved dearly.

————

“This is it,” Eren mutters under his breath, standing at the foot of the stairs descending from the Shrine of Seven Stars, the home of the Alliance within Pandaria. A light, gentle breeze floats around him, chocolate brown hair gently brushing against his forehead. His squad had been appointed to Pandaria after the Vale had been destroyed by Garrosh to defend their allies from the Sha that began to appear within the destroyed fields. His emerald gaze is hardened after years of training and battles, and he stares over the destruction of the Vale with his hands clenched into tight fists, his knuckles starting to whiten with the pressure. The appearance of what was once golden grass and beautiful structures was forever gone, and he wishes so badly that he could drive his swords through the head of the orc responsible for such destruction. Though, he knows the pleasure should go to those whose home has been destroyed, the Pandaren that will risk their lives to defend this place.

It is almost time to depart toward the destruction of the Vale, to rid the corruption of the Sha and then take Garrosh down for good. He knows it won’t be an easy task, and he’s afraid to lose his friends – those who have stayed by his side through everything and those who he considers his family – but he knows the risk of war. He knows he could be killed in battle as well, but as long as he dies knowing he has done at least something to aid his friends and the faction he’s come to love with a burning passion, at least he will not die in vain.

He hears someone approach him from behind, their soft footsteps loud in his sensitive ears, and he twists around to find Armin, clad in his white priest robes, smiling toward him, and he can't help but offer a soft twitch of his lips in return. “I sensed your frustration,” the blond’s soft voice fills the Warrior’s ears, and Eren’s previous smile fades into a flat line. Armin cautiously steps closer and places a delicate hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Eren can see the soft texture of his companion’s fingers, his hands not needed for physical fight unlike Eren’s rough, battle worn hands. They're soft and small, and he feels Armin squeeze into his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Armin takes his hand off of Eren’s shoulder, and the warmth of the priest’s palm lingers for a few moments before fading  away completely. Eren isn't sure if it's his companion's magic that affects him or Armin himself, but he begins to feel slightly better - they've been through so much already together that this should just be another round of fights and cuts and bruises and wounded egos, but he knows deep in his mind that they could easily screw up and ruin everything forever. The warrior steps toward his friend and places rough, chapped lips to the top of the blond's head without a word. He hears Armin sigh and tilts his head down to face him, though is greeted with a gentle, warm smile.

"Promise me you'll stay safe," ocean blue meets emerald green, and the brunet can't help but smile.

"Promise."

\-----------------------

[ **First chapter done! Just wanted to explain the back story of it all in detail. Will get to more characters and more of the current story line in the next chapter!** ]


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